I hardly ever (read: never) post personal stuff on my blog and I sure as hell don’t post shit like this on Facebook but I needed this out.
Tomorrow it will be ten days since my father passed away and I find it incredible how I thought I was depressed and miserable before he died. I thought I was sad, miserable and, though I’d never been diagnosed, I was sure I was depressed.
I am so listless now and I’m trying so hard to not let any one see. I don’t think, by any means, that I’m taking this the hardest out of all my 7 other siblings, but I spent the most time with him. I think I’ve absorbed a lot of his personality because I was raised by him. Every day I think of him and I remember he’s not here. I can’t just pick up the phone and call him any more.
And I die a little inside every time that realization hits. Every. Time.
I miss you papi. I miss you more than I think I can stand, but I will try and be strong for you. I’ll stop being changa, because you loved me.